FA should listen to Sir Alex Ferguson. He may have a point
by Henry Winter
Consistency. That's all a manager like Sir Alex Ferguson craves. One minute he is being canonised by everyone for his moving elegy to Sir Bobby Robson in Durham Cathedral, the next he is being demonised for questioning a referee's split-times.
Ferguson deserves punishment for his unfounded barbs about Alan Wiley's fitness but this nationwide race to pillory the Manchester United manager stinks of jealousy, hypocrisy and inconsistency.
We cannot have it both ways. We cannot install Ferguson on a pedestal, lauding everything from the frequent joy spread by his teams, the way he nurtures coltish thoroughbreds and his eloquent tribute to Robson, and then immediately march him towards the public stocks for an intemperate remark.
The frenzy stirred by Ferguson's comments, and the inadequate apology, says as much about modern society's sad hunger for turning heroes into zeroes as it does about the Scot's rather crude, rather obvious attempt to divert attention from United's poor performance against Sunderland.
Ferguson might have considered the error of his ways more keenly if the Football Association had simply released a detailed breakdown of stats showing that Wiley is actually fitter than a butcher's dog, even fitter than Terry Butcher's dog, alongside the following statement: "We understand Mr Ferguson's unwillingness to criticise Mr Foster for being beaten by Mr Bent's easily stoppable shot and then hesitating as Mr Jones came flying through the air. Footballers can be sensitive. Mr Ferguson has always defended his players even when they have been rubbish.
"We note his frustration at Mr Nani's failure even to live up to his early billing as the Poor Man's Ronaldo. We appreciate his anger with himself for picking the wrong tactics, notably using Mr Welbeck, a centre-forward, out wide.
"We also can imagine Mr Ferguson's embarrassment at being outmanoeuvred by one of his former players, Mr Bruce. If Mr Ferguson would like to make a substantial donation to a charity of Mr Wiley's choice, we can all go back to talking about what an epic season this is on the pitch.''
Of course, Ferguson should show more respect to officials. Of course, he should reopen lines of communication with the BBC. These are significant debits in a ledger otherwise brimming with credits.
Yet maybe the FA should listen to Ferguson more. Maybe he has a point that some referees, although clearly not Wiley, might actually struggle with the quickening demands of football in age when the counter-attacker is king.
Ferguson certainly has a point that a winter break would prevent stress fractures that bedevil Premier League players in the spring. Does anyone in authority respond to the plea from football's most experienced manager for a mid-season breather? No. So injuries to David Beckham and Wayne Rooney cost England dear in the past two World Cups.
Often painted as a belligerent soul at war with the FA and England, this is the manager who moulded the Scholes-Butt-Neville generation, who has turned the raw potential of a teenager from Everton into an accomplished performer and where would England be without Wayne Rooney?
When Michael Owen needed hope, Ferguson provided it. There is also a wonderfully skilful but wayward youngster at United's academy who could grace England's midfield for years to come – but only if he responds to Ferguson's intelligent guidance.
If Ferguson can rein him in, United and England have a gem.
Yet the world and his second wife want Ferguson named and shamed, fined and banned. Well, if the FA is going to censure Ferguson for an outburst at a referee, then it should also look closer to home, in fact in an office just down the corridor from the disciplinary department.
Would the FA dare question Fabio Capello about his rant at Damir Skomina, the Slovenian who oversaw England's defeat to Ukraine on Saturday? No chance.
A cynic might suggest that Capello's acerbic comments about Skomina's momentary failure to differentiate Robert Green and Rio Ferdinand was simply a Fergie-style tactic of moving the debate away from England's failings (albeit a failed one). Surely, the FA's "Respect" campaign demands all managers show restraint, Capello as well as Ferguson.
But it is Ferguson called to account. Even previously unknown union leaders have leapt on soap-boxes to castigate this former shop steward, who did so much for the trade union movement in his younger days in Glasgow.
A good union man? Ask the League Managers Association how hard Ferguson works for them, raising funds, helping sacked managers with a phone-call, even providing references when they apply for new jobs.
Within football, there is no one more respected than Ferguson because of his record with Aberdeen and United, because he could be sitting on a beach reading Red Rum's autobiography with a nice bottle of Château Pétrus breathing at the dinner table yet he remains obsessed with football. He loves the banter, the sight of Paul Scholes and Rooney connecting with the ball, the sublime vision of Ryan Giggs taking on defenders.
As the first rays of sunlight spread across the Cheshire countryside, Ferguson leaves home for his Carrington control room, constantly plotting ways to make United better. He is well paid but is probably worth double to his employers, who will be riddled with nerves when he finally storms off into the sunset. He can be charming and infuriating in consecutive sentences but is always compelling company.
Outside the game, Ferguson is perceived as Captain Cantankerous. The public only sees him in the dugout or in an occasional post-match interviews, raging about something or someone.
When I assisted Kenny Dalglish with a book 14 years ago, the publishers sought a big name for the foreword and Kenny, the former Liverpool manager then taking on Ferguson with Blackburn Rovers, immediately piped up: "Oh, Alec'll do it. Nae problem.''
"What?'' I spluttered. "But you two have always feuded, remember all that 'you'll get more sense out of my wee bairn' jibes.'' "No, Alec's as good as gold,'' insisted Dalglish. "He'll do it.'' And Ferguson did. He was also the first manager on the phone to Dalglish after Hillsborough, offering sympathy and support.
This is the side that the public does not know, that union leaders and football administrators cannot imagine. Ferguson probably does not worry deeply about his image but he could easily quote the late, great Eric Morecambe: "You'll miss me when I'm gone.''
